


it’s called cake-mageddon, albert

by astrangepurplefairy



Series: the adventures of a wild sprace’s apartment [26]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Baking, M/M, Sprace Apartment AU, but the fight is playful, elbert has no idea wtf is going on, sprace, wasting ingredients in a fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 17:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20213197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangepurplefairy/pseuds/astrangepurplefairy
Summary: spot and race have a cake war while they’re baking





	it’s called cake-mageddon, albert

**Author's Note:**

> hi my lovessss it’s almost midnight whoops  
hope y’all enjoy!!

Spot was fairly used to coming home only to find his boyfriend doing some strange, unusual and unlikely thing. He once stepped through the doorway only to see Race sprawled in the middle of the room, surrounded by oil paints and one enormous canvas, despite having no painting ability. Another time, he returned to find Race sitting atop the  _bathroom door, _eyes wide and eyebrows raised, like he wasn’t quite sure if Spot was going to yell at him or start laughing.

Today, Race’s daily activity—while not strange, simply out of character—was baking.

“Racer,” Spot murmured, leaning against the wall of the kitchen. “What _are_ you doing?”

“I’m building a time machine, Spottie. What does it look like?” Race laughed sarcastically, yelping when Spot poked him in the side and then kissed his cheek. “I’m baking brownies.”

“What for?” He asked, scooping batter out of the bowl and licking it off his finger, even when Race smacked his hand.

“Don’t do that,” he scolded, and then, “Because I wanted brownies, and I can bake, because I’m Italian.”

“You can _cook_ because you’re Italian, baking is entirely different. You tried to make scones last year and they were rock hard.” Spot pointed out, taking another scoop of batter onto his finger despite Race’s disapproval.

Race glared at him, whether for double-dipping or the comment, and Spot kissed him sweetly.

“Stop eating my batter and start putting together the dry ingredients for the second batch, you heathen.” Race demanded, shooing Spot towards the counter, where all the aforementioned dry ingredients were still strewn about.

He started out measuring the flour, salt, baking powder, and cocoa, and mixing it all together. He didn’t add the vanilla yet, opting instead to start melting the butter and sugar together on the stove. Race was still stirring together his own mixture, readying the pan beside him.

“Scooch your mooch.” Spot murmured, hip bumping Race to one side.

Race stumbled, hand knocking into his bowl, and it fell over.

Race looked up and fixed him with a deadly glare.

“You ass!” He yelled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Spot shrugged. “You’ll survive, love.”

Race made a face, and then reached over, took a handful of the dry ingredients, and threw them into Spot’s face.

Spot’s jaw dropped. “That was perfectly measured!” 

A smirk. “Not anymore.”

Spot didn’t the only thing he could.

He broke an egg over Race’s head.

What had began as mostly-joking light idiocy turned into a full-fledged ingredients war. Eggs flew across the room as flour was dumped over heads, cocoa sticking to skin and buttered slathered across faces. Race poured the vanilla into Spot’s hair and Spot dumped salt down the front of Race’s shirt. Sugar arced through the air and flew into Spot’s face, and he retaliated with a stick of butter which hit Race squarely in the shoulder and made a squishing sound. They both burst into laughter and reached into their bowls once more. Chocolate batter smacked Spot in the face and dripped into his mouth.

They look like two idiots in a cake war, to shorten the explanation.

A voice interrupted their battle.

“What in gay hell are you doing?”

Spot’s head swiveled towards the door, where Albert and Elmer stood, wide-eyes and slack-jawed.

Spot grinned. “We’re baking.” He said cheerily, shrugging. Race’s cocoa-covered face crinkled as he held back a smile.

“_This_ is not baking, okay?  _This_,” Elmer gestured to the general chaos that had coated the kitchen. “Is Armageddon.”

Race looked over to Spot, eyes wide and mock-intense, and said seriously, “ _It’s Cake-maggedon.”_

Spot gasped. “Run for cover!” He yelled, grabbing Race and pulling him into his body. He threw his arms over Race’s head as if to protect him from imaginary falling debris. Race was laughing so hard that tears made tracks through the flour on his face, face red beneath the powder.

“The two of you are ridiculous.” Albert murmured, grabbing Elmer’s hand.

Spot might’ve responded, but he couldn’t stop laughing, holding Race close as tears ran down their cheeks.

Race grabbed his flour-coated face in his eggy hands and giggled, pressing their brows together. “We _are_ ridiculous , do you realize that?” He murmured.

Spot nodded. “Do you expect any different?”

Race just shook his head and kissed him.

He tasted like brownie batter.

**Author's Note:**

> so cute  
am i the only one who eats brownie batter? yes? okay.  
hope y’all enjoyed, i love you vv much!  
<333


End file.
